A Warden's Promise
by Virenn
Summary: The Grey Wardens are a prestigious group, one dedicated to fighting the darkspawn. However, with their good name slandered, and many of their members dead, the ones who remain have to find the will to continue fighting... Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

Full summary: The Grey Wardens are a prestigious group, one dedicated to fighting the darkspawn. However, with their good name is slandered, and many of their members dead, the ones who remain have to find the will to continue fighting in order to defend those who want nothing more than to see them dead. A Dragon Age: Origins retelling, with major twists and turns.

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"The Grey Wardens need more recruits." Duncan said, running his fingers through his hair. Though there had been two possible Grey Warden candidates already recruited—Ser Jory and Daveth—Duncan felt a need for more. "With darkspawn amassing on the surface, we need as many able bodies as we can find."

"Shall we go out and find new recruits, Duncan?" In truth, Duncan hated leaving the recruiting in the hands of others. In the past, recruits that weren't his had not made it past the joining ritual. The young Grey Warden grinned sheepishly, almost as though he had read Duncan's mind. "You could always turn them down, Duncan."

"No," the firm reply came, causing the young Warden glance up. "I need to figure out if there is, or isn't, an Archdemon among the darkspawn. For that, I need to go to Orzammar; I'll search for recruits on the way."

"You're going alone?" The Warden asked, the shock written on his face.

"For the most part. I want some of you to travel ahead to Orzammar. We have much to look into, and I'm positive I can leave that to you for several days while I search for our recruits." Duncan watched as the young Warden excused himself. There was much to do, and very little time to do it, Duncan noted bitterly.

There were, in his opinion, a lot of places that he could visit in search of recruits—unfortunately, he needed for his path to lead him to Orzammar quickly.

That was why he decided that his first stop would be Castle Cousland. The Cousland guard had amazing warriors amongst them, and Duncan did not doubt that at least _one _of them would make a great Warden.

With a charcoal stick, Duncan wrote a quick note to himself about his path, before looking over the next possible route. From Castle Cousland, he would head straight to the Circle of Magi. Not only did he need to meet with the First Enchanter about receiving more mages for the King's Army, but the Grey Wardens _needed _a Mage amongst them. Their last had gone to Orzammar years ago in order to seek a proper Warden's death. It was a shame to see him go; he was a powerful mage, stronger than, Duncan believed, the First Enchanter himself.

As soon as he left the Circle of Magi, he would head right for Denerim. The city was a large one, and Duncan was positive that he could find at least _one _more warrior from the city.

From Denerim, he would go right to the Brecilian Forest to seek out the Dalish Elves. The Dalish were graceful and deadly—a people worth having on your side. Elves always made a decent Grey Warden, with them being so dedicated to what they did.

After meeting with the Dalish, he and whatever recruits he had gathered would head straight for Orzammar to meet with the other Grey Wardens. There, he would find the answers to his questions before going back to Ostagar. He didn't know if his potential recruits would be able to survive the joining or not, but that was always a risk that the Grey Wardens had to take.

Grabbing his swords, Duncan left the room in order to collect supplies. He would be on the road for several weeks, but he felt that he only needed to bring the minimum. He had no doubt that he would receive whatever he needed from allies.

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A/N: Hello, all, and thank you for reading the first chapter of A Warden's Promise.

When I saw a similar story pop up, I was a little wary about posting this up, but I spent a long time planning it out, and I wasn't about to stop writing it~! That, and my friend encouraged me to throw it up.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed this extremely short, introductory chapter. I'm in the middle of editing chapter two, and I can tell you that it's going to be _way_ longer than this. Remember, reviews help an author keep going!


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter two! Read and enjoy. c:

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Today was a bittersweet day for Lady Caley Cousland. Today, she would prove her worth by taking control of Castle Cousland while her father and brother went to war with the King. It was her chance to prove to Ferelden that she wasn't just some silly twenty year old girl who didn't know what she was doing; it was her chance to prove herself as a warrior (or, as her mother often called the two of them, a Battle Maiden).

With her head held high, Caley entered the main hall, instantly spotting her father with Arl Howe, a man who was much like a second father to her, and another man she was unable to recognize. "Father?" she asked, walking up towards the men. "You called?"

"Yes I did, pup." He said, pulling his daughter close to him for a hug. "Duncan, this is Caley."

"So this is the young lady I've heard so much about." Caley watched as his eyes swept over her, almost as if he was attempting to examine her worth. His examination seemed to take no longer than a couple of seconds before he politely extended his hand to her. She reached out, and grasped it in a firm handshake. "Your father has spoken highly of you, Lady Cousland." The man said. "He says that you are a magnificent warrior."

"I can only hope that I am worthy of my father's praise, sir." She replied quickly. Caley, though a great warrior, was not one to openly brag about it. There would _always_ be someone stronger than she, and she needed to constantly be aware of that fact. If she let her skills get to her head, she knew that it would eventually come back to haunt her in one way or another.

"Now, pup, you know that I would never exaggerate!" Bryce laughed, his bright eyes sparkling.

She knew that was true, to an extent. He _always_ praised her skill, but she did remember a time when he had practically pointed out _everything_ that was wrong with her form. It was actually one of her proudest moments; she was just a young girl of twelve, not yet ready to handle a blade, and yet she was eager to do so.

Ser Gilmore was just a green soldier at the time, and was often used as her sparring partner. When Bryce saw the two of them, he went red-faced, demanding to know _what_ in the world she was doing. In her panic, she had dropped her shield, and Bryce made a beeline for her. She thought that her father would be angry at her for attempting swordplay, but she was wrong. He was angry that she was doing it wrong.

Ever since that day, she had not stopped honing her skills. She often sparred with the knights, managing to give many of them a run for their money. It was something that made Bryce prideful of his little girl, his 'little spitfire', as Arl Howe often called her, since she was not one of those dainty, boring young women who did nothing but complain all day.

"We could use warriors of your caliber in the Grey Wardens." Duncan said, ignoring the shocked look on Bryce's face.

Caley, on the other hand, attempted to hide her shock. Was Duncan being serious, or was he just trying to boost her ego? Surely a Grey Warden wasn't of the sort that would do that sort of thing, and she could _only_ be lead to assume that he was being honest.

But… It was almost unrealistic! She? A Grey Warden? She would not have even imagined being offered such a chance, and yet, here it was.

She wasn't sure what to say, and was quite thankful that her father spoke up on her behalf. "Now, Duncan, I'm not sure I would enjoy sending my only daughter out to join the Grey Wardens." Duncan nodded, but said no more on the subject.

Caley bit her tongue. Though she was happy that her father was intervening in her behalf, it wasn't exactly what she had in mind. Why _wouldn't_ her father wish for her to join the Grey Wardens? They were a prestigious group of warriors; _anyone_ would be honored to join their ranks.

Eager to avoid the awkward situation, Bryce could only offer one escape: "Pup, could you go find Fergus for me? I would like to speak to him." He turned his attention away from his daughter at that moment, before he clasped the shoulders of the two men in front of him. "Shall we go up to my study? We have much to discuss."

"I'll have Fergus find you as soon as possible, Father," Caley spoke up, causing her father to turn around and face her. The question was in her eyes, and he winked at her; he would not run away from her questions, but now wasn't the time to ask them. For now, she would have to keep them to herself.

She watched as the men left the room, silent. She couldn't dwell on her father's eagerness to get her away from the Grey Warden; she, unlike other people, she noted as she glanced around the hall, had work to do. With a sigh, she left the room, ready to find Fergus.

Castle Cousland was preparing for war, and it showed. Soldiers littered the hallways, and supplies were being dragged from one room to another. "Good day, Lady Cousland," one of them called out to her.

She turned around, smiling at the soldier. "Keep up the good work—Fergus will be relying on you while he's at Ostagar."

"I would hate to let Milady down," he answered, turning his attention back to his work.

Caley turned back around quickly, resulting in her running head-first into an armored chest. "I'm sorry," she said, slightly dazed.

"My lady," a familiar voice said. Caley recognized it immediately; it was Ser Roderick Gilmore. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Roderick!" She exclaimed, embracing the older knight. He was a little stiff at her touch, but gave her an awkward hug in return. "Is there something I can help you with?" The look on the man's face, however, said it all. She nearly winced. "Is Lothar bothering Nan again?"

"Your mother sent me to have you fetch your hound," he answered, confirming her fears. "Nan isn't happy—she's threatening to leave again."

Caley shook her head, stepping in front of Gilmore and towards the kitchens. "Nan is always threatening to leave. But she's been around since I was a baby. I know she won't do it."

"I'm not sure, milady." Gilmore said, walking side-by-side with the teyrn's daughter. "She's about to have a conniption fit."

The shorter woman couldn't _help _but snort in laughter. "Roderick, you forget that Nan's always furious when something major is going on in the castle. She's just _stressed_."

Gilmore opened the door for her, allowing Caley to step in—right into the wrath of Nan. "You!" The elderly lady nearly screamed, whirling around to face Caley. "Get your mutt out of my larder!" Her fists shook, and Caley embraced the woman in an attempt to calm her anger.

"Come on, Nan," Caley said, trying not to laugh. "He's not a mutt. He's a purebred Mabari."

A Mabari, Caley was extremely proud to note, who had survived the taint. It was strange to see a lone Darkspawn on the surface, but _somehow_ one managed to find its way into the training grounds of Castle Cousland during the winter months. It was only Lothar and Caley out at the time, and the war hound had spotted the beast instantly. He growled furiously before he had thrown himself on the fiend, tearing at its throat in an attempt to kill it before it drew its weapon and harmed his mistress. He was successful, but the attack had caused him to swallow a lot of its blood.

A healer at the castle, luckily, had the proper flower needed to treat him, and Lothar made a miraculous recovery. The dog, hardly half a year old at the time, had already proven that he was worth the investment. Nan couldn't even deny that—she nearly exploded in a flood of tears when she was told that Caley could have possibly been injured, if not killed, had the young Mabari not been by her side.

She wasn't quite willing to remember the moment now, however. "I know a mutt when I see one." Nan snorted. "Just… get him out of my larder." She watched as the young woman stepped towards the door, shaking her head. "I swear, you Couslands are going to drive me absolutely insane one of these days."

Caley expected a mess in the Larder. She expected grain to litter the floor and for Lothar to be digging around for sausages. But the Larder was surprisingly spotless. "Lothar? Come here, boy. Nan's going to have your hide unless you leave." The dog walked closer to her, but quickly turned around, facing the far wall. His ears were flat against his skull, and his teeth were bared.

"He's a bit agitated, milady," Gilmore said.

"How strange." Caley muttered. "He doesn't normally act like that." However, at the sight of a giant rat, Caley nearly jumped out of her skin. Lothar raced towards it, grabbing the thing by the stomach and shaking it violently. Blood dripped down the dog's muzzle as he killed the pest that he held, before dropping it quickly and growling again.

"That's disgusting," Caley frowned, but grabbed her sword. "There's more of them, aren't there, Lothar?" The dog barked, causing Gilmore to sigh.

All at once, the rats ran from their holes, nearly ready for a fight. Thankfully, it was a fairly one-sided fight. The rats were easily disposed of; and Lothar was obviously quite pleased with his efforts. He walked right up to Caley, his short, stubby tail wagging with great force. He practically smiled, almost as if to say _you're proud of me, right?_

Caley bent down, caressing Lothar's head. "You're a good boy; you know that, don't you?" He barked, and Caley laughed. "Sometimes, you're much too smart for your own good!"

"They do say that Mabari are intelligent enough to talk, but chose not to," Ser Gilmore said. He smiled when Caley had, before offering his hand to help her to her feet. "I'm sure that Lothar is no different. He really is a smart dog." He paused for a moment, before saying, "I think it might be best to avoid telling this to Nan."

Lothar, on the other hand, had a different idea. Grabbing the biggest of the rats, he practically pranced out of the larder. "Lothar! No!" Caley hissed, trying to grab his collar as he passed by. She was unsuccessful, and watched in horror as Lothar deposited the rat at Nan's feet.

The woman squealed. "By the _Maker_, what is that dog _doing_ with that hideous thing?"

"Lothar was defending your larder against giant rats," Caley said, kicking the rodent out of the way. "He wasn't trying to steal anything."

"Don't try to defend him," Nan retorted. "He probably led them in there in the first place." Lothar whined, looking up at Nan with incredibly sad eyes. The two of them were locked in a gaze for a moment, before Nan sighed, turning her head and handing the Mabari a few scraps of meat he practically swallowed whole. "There you go, you mutt. Now you can't say I've never given you anything."

She sighed, before grabbing Caley by the shoulders and shoving her towards the door. "Now, out you go. Don't forget to clean your dog's muzzle. He looks hideous with all of that blood on him!" She watched as Caley left the kitchens, followed by Lothar and Ser Gilmore. "Finally, maybe I can attempt to get some work done!"

"I should take my leave now, Milady," Gilmore said.

"What?" Caley said, turning around and pouting. "Come on, Roderick! We never spend time with each other anymore. It's almost as if we aren't friends." The last word, Gilmore could tell, was forced. 'Friends' was not a word that Caley would use to describe their relationship.

Gilmore flushed slightly, bowing his head in an apology. "With your brother taking a majority of the forces, I have to prepare the few guards we have left."

Caley shook her head. "I understand. I expect you to find me at dinner, though. If you skip out again, I'll be disappointed." She had that mysterious gleam in her eye, and Gilmore smiled awkwardly.

It was no secret that the youngest Cousland had her eye on the red-haired knight, but he was much too proper and duty-sworn to actually openly court her back. It didn't help that the Couslands were nearly royalty; if Caley married, it should be to someone worthy of her. Gilmore, however, didn't believe that he was even close to being worthy of the young woman's affections.

"Of course, milady." Gilmore said as he bowed quickly. "If you would excuse me now…" he trailed off, turning on his heel, and walking in the opposite direction.

Placing her hand on Lothar's head, Caley smiled. "Well, I guess it's time to look for Fergus. Let's go, Lothar." The dog barked, running off ahead of his mistress, stopping in his tracks every so often in order to make sure that she was following. Figuring that he had caught Fergus's scent in the air (her older brother was quite adventurous, and wouldn't be found in the same place for very long), Caley followed without a second thought.

When the Mabari led her right to her mother, Lady Landra, her son Darrien, and her lady-in-waiting, Caley could have screamed. Instead, she smiled as she walked up towards the small group; her eyes locked on Lothar as he ran up to her mother, and pushed her hand up onto his head for her to pet him. "I see you got your dog away from Nan's larder," her mother said.

"He was just defending it." Caley insisted, causing the wardog to wag his tail. "He wasn't doing any harm, and he won't do it again." Lothar barked, as if to agree with his mistress; he was _always _a good dog, after all.

"I still think you should keep an eye on him." She said. "Well, Caley, you remember Lady Landra, don't you?"

"I'd be disappointed if she didn't remember me." Lady Landra said. Caley bit back a groan. How _couldn't _she remember Landra? "I tried to get you to marry Darrien, after all."

"And you did a horrible job of it, mother," the young man spoke up. It wasn't that Darrien was bad—he was just… not her type. If she had to have someone, she wanted Gilmore. "I apologize on my mother's behalf." He said, giving her an awkward grin.

Caley tried her hardest to give him a small smile, but feared it might have turned into a grimace. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I must apologize, but I must cut this short. Father asked me to fetch Fergus for him." When she glanced at her mother's companions, she caught Lady Landra's glare. Was she still hung up about her marrying her son? "I will see you all at dinner, I hope. Goodbye." She walked away, patting her thigh. "Come on, Lothar." The Mabari left the Teyrna's side, trotting to keep up with his mistress.

It was nearly a relief when Caley heard Fergus's voice in the hallway. She had feared that his wife would send her running in circles to find him, and yet there he was, in his room. It was almost as if he were waiting for her. She slowed her pace as she got closer to the door, fearing that she was interrupting a conversation between Fergus and his family.

"I fear for you, Fergus," Oriana said, leaning closer to her husband. "I cannot help it. You're facing a hoard."

"No darkspawn can best Fergus," Caley said as she stepped in.

She had no time to utter another word when Oren collided against her legs. "Auntie Cae, when papa leaves, will you teach me _sward_play?" Oren, the little scamp, was always doing one of three things: Watching Fergus practice his swordplay, watching Caley practice, or mimicking the way the knights of the castle held their weapons.

She didn't want to tell him that he was a bit young, and instead maneuvered a different route. "Maybe, little one," she said, bending down to give him a hug. He held his arms out to her, and she picked him up. "But your mommy or daddy has to say its okay for me to teach you."

Oren was a mere boy of seven, but he definitely had the heart of a Cousland. "If I do that, I'll have to wait until I'm old and wrinkly!" He looked expectantly at his father as he said, "I want to see a _sward_!"

"Come here, Oren!" Fergus exclaimed, grabbing onto the boy when he held his arms out. Fergus was proud of his little boy, and gave Caley what she had deemed 'the look'. It _wasn't_ the look one would expect a parent to shoot someone who had the potential to teach their child a dangerous skill, but rather a look that said if-you-manage-to-sneak-him-away-he's-yours. "You'll see a sword real soon. I promise."

"Oren's too young," Oriana said, her eyes going wide. "He can't learn swordplay!"

"I wouldn't worry. Our little Oren is a trooper." Fergus held the boy closer to him. "Aren't you, my boy?"

"I'm gonna be a great warrior like you one day, papa!" His small hands played with the pendant that hung on a thick cord around his father's neck. "I'll be respected, and I'll have cool stuff like this."

"It is yours, my boy." As Fergus lifted the chain over his head with his free hand, he glanced over at his little sister. "I don't suppose you came here to exchange pleasantries, Caley. Is there something you needed?"

She had nearly forgotten. Giving him a sheepish grin, she nodded. "Father asked me to find you for him. He's in his study." She watched as Fergus placed Oren down, looking past his sister and towards the door.

"It seems as though our parents have found me instead." He laughed, walking closer to the Teyrn and Teyrna. "Is there anything I can do before I leave?"

"I just wished to see you before you left." Bryce looked over at Caley, smiling. "Sorry I sent you out of the way for nothing, Pup."

Caley shook her head. "It's fine. I wanted to see Fergus off anyway."

"Then I suppose I should be going." Fergus looked at the faces of his family, before his gaze settled on his little sister. "Watch out for our family. Keep mother and Oriana and Oren safe for me. I'm leaving them in your capable hands."

Mother? Needing protecting? Caley couldn't help but grin. "I'll do my best, although I'm sure that mother needs no watching."

"It's just so wonderful to know I'm well-looked after," the Teyrna said, rubbing her temples.

After Bryce whispered something to Fergus, his gaze settled on Caley. "You should get some rest, Pup. You have a lot to do tomorrow."

Caley held back a yawn, surprised that she was suddenly a little sleepy. It was a shame, but perhaps she wouldn't be seeing Gilmore at dinner, anyway. "I'll take my leave now," she said. "Goodbye, Fergus." With Lothar trailing right behind her, Caley crossed the hall and entered her room, shutting the door and locking it. She deposited her sword and shield at the door, before kicking off her boots and collapsing into her bed, armor and all.

No more than a second later, Caley felt the Mabari jump onto the large bed. He circled the area next to her once, before leaning heavily against her side and giving her a contented sigh. Instinctively, she began to scratch behind his ears.

Tomorrow would be a long day; even Lothar knew it.


	3. Chapter 3

I finished this chapter a little early and decided to upload it. I'm already well into chapter four, and I've already written up a few other scenes that may appear later on in the story. I might change the rating due to violence, but that has yet to be decided.

Here's chapter three. Read and enjoy!

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Vicious snarling awoke Caley no more than several hours later. Groggily, she sat up, looking over towards the door. Lothar was agitated again—he was growling and his ears were flat against his skull. "Lothar?" she whispered. When he didn't respond, she hissed his name a little louder. "Lothar!" The Mabari glanced at her before poking at her shield with his nose.

A chill ran down her spine as Caley quietly got off of the bed. Quickly, she reached for her boots, pulling them on before moving for the chest she kept. Potions, a first aid kit, and other supplies would be needed, she was sure. Grabbing a large backpack, she shoved everything in the chest inside, before grabbing her sword and shield. "Lothar, I'm going to open the door. We're going to rush them." The Mabari growled in response.

Carefully, holding up her shield, Caley unlocked the door before kicking it open. Lothar rushed out, jumping on the closest man. Ignoring the agonized screams, Caley knocked the next man down by hitting him with her shield. When he fell, she ran her sword through him.

She turned, her wooden shield hitting the enemy soldier's. Without thinking twice about it, Caley pushed him to her left. The soldier stumbled, dropping his shield. It was just the opening that Caley needed. Grabbing onto his shoulder, she thrust the blade into his stomach. He didn't even have the strength to scream as he fell onto the floor.

As soon as the man had fallen, she brought her shield up, taking the opportunity to assess the situation. A soldier was in front of Fergus's room, almost as if he were guarding it.

Caley had never quite understood what it felt like when someone's world came 'crashing down'. Now, however, she finally knew just what it was like. "No!" She snarled. Lothar, having just killed an archer, fed off of Caley's worries. He raced towards the guard, getting a good grip on the man's arm. He dragged him down, allowing Caley to cut into his side with her longsword.

Lothar pushed the door to Fergus's room open, revealing two soldiers. The first one backed away, and Lothar wasted no time pushing him onto the ground, tearing at his throat. Caley saw Oren's body huddled in a corner, with the second soldier standing over him.

"Get away from him!" Caley couldn't afford to waste a single second. The second she reached the man, she bashed her shield into his face. Something, she wasn't quite sure what it was, nor did she care to know, cracked. Caley watched as the man hit the wall and tried to hold onto it for support; his free hand reached for his nose, wiping away the blood that was beginning to pour out of it. He looked pathetic, but Caley wasn't about to let him wiggle out of this mess alive. She closed her eyes as she swung her sword violently, all thoughts on form flying out of the window. She wasn't sure what she had hit—all she knew was that he was on the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

She dropped her sword and shield as she fell to her knees. "Oren," she pulled the boy closer to her, and found that he was holding onto a bloody side. "Damn it, Oren! Speak to me!" Her voice was desperate, and she patted the boy's face until his eyes fluttered open.

Instantly, Caley let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding onto. He was still alive. "Stay with me, Oren. I'm going to patch you up the best I can. I need you to stay alive. I won't let you leave us."

She didn't know the first thing about patching a wound. All she knew was that she had to clean it, stitch it, and bandage it up. Her hands shook as she fumbled with a first aid kit, attempting to find the needle. She could have cried in frustration when she heard her mother's voice behind her. "Oh, my little Oren… Give that to me, Caley!" The Teyrna pulled the first aid kit away from her daughter, and Caley concentrated on cleaning the wound.

The Teyrna was much more efficient in first aid than Caley ever was, and was prepared to stitch the wound right after it was cleaned. "Oren, concentrate on me," Caley whispered as she cleaned the wound. When the boy nodded, she continued. "This will hurt, but I need you to sit still. Think of how _proud_ your daddy will be when he knows how strong you've been."

The second the Teyrna began to stitch the wound, Caley feared that Oren would cry out in pain. She was surprised, _and_ proud, to see that he didn't. He was crying silently, but the young woman could not find fault in that; he really _was _a trooper, and she would not lose him. She refused to lose him.

Her mother was quick to stitch the wound, much to Caley's relief. "I'll carry him." The Teyrna said as she worked her arms around the tiny boy's shoulders. Once the boy was safe in her mother's arms, Caley grabbed her weapons and made her way towards the door.

"What about mama?" Oren whispered. Caley stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn't spotted Oriana when she had first stormed into the room, but there she was.

It was a rather gruesome sight. The woman's eyes were wide and her throat was slit. Caley wasn't sure what to say to pacify the boy, and neither did her mother. "Your mommy didn't make it, Oren." Caley finally whispered. "But she would want you to be strong. Do you understand, Oren?" He nodded, and Caley forced a smile.

"Caley, your shield…" Her mother trailed off, causing Caley to look at the offending object. Her wooden shield, which had been given to her by Ser Gilmore and held the crest of the House of Cousland, was a mess. The wood had cracked, a result, Caley was sure, from ramming it against the face of the bastard that had injured Oren.

She looked around the hall, spotting one of the fallen soldiers. "I'll just have to steal from a dead man." She muttered. The thought of touching a dead body disgusted her more than anything, but she managed to bend down and wiggle the shield out of his hand.

What she saw when she held it up, however, made her drop it immediately. "Arl Howe!" Her hands began to shake, but this time, it was caused by pure anger. "I'll kill him; I swear to you I'll kill him!"

"Why would he do this?" The Teyrna asked, her voice sounding panicked.

"He's jealous. He wants Highever." Caley bent down, grabbing the shield and stomping towards the exit. "He attacks while our troops are gone."

"You think he delayed his knights on purpose, Caley?" The idea that Arl Howe, one of her husband's closest friends, would be so power-hungry scared her. "What about Bryce? He never came to bed!"

Caley's brows furrowed. She didn't want to think about the possibility that her father was already dead. "He might have stayed up late with Arl Howe." She spat out. "Come on, we have to find him!"

When they entered the courtyard, Caley was expecting a group of the Arl's knights waiting for them. What she saw was the guard dutifully disposing the last of the knights in the area. "Teyrna Eleanor! Lady Cousland!" One of them, a young guard Caley had sparred with on many occasions, ran up to them. "By the Maker, I'm relieved to see you safe and sound." When his eyes settled on Oren, he flinched. "How could they?" he whispered.

"There's no time to worry about the 'whys'." Caley heard her mother say. "We need to find Bryce."

"Allow us to escort you, Teyrna Eleanor. We'll keep you three safe." The group had gathered around. Each of them had the same determined look in their eyes—they _would _keep them safe, even if they had to give up their lives to do so.

"I'm fighting with you." Caley answered. "I'm not here to be protected. I'm here_ to _protect." The guard knew better than to argue with her.

"Caley, wait," when the woman turned around to face her mother, a key was being pushed towards her. "It'll open the treasury. I'm sure that there will be things in there that'll be of use to you. After we go there, we'll head to the Servant's exit. The Arl's men probably have the rest of the place surrounded."

Caley grabbed the key and nodded. "Follow me," she ordered the men. She felt extremely fortunate that the Arl's men were nowhere to be seen. Caley was able to enter the treasury without a single mishap. "Guard the door over here. I won't be long." The men nodded, allowing Caley, Lothar and the Teyrna to enter.

"Grab the family sword, Caley," her mother said as soon as they had entered. "Use it when you're to fight Arl Howe." There was a grave look in her eyes, and Caley could only nod as she threw her now useless sword to the side and picked up the longsword she only dreamed of holding. Right next to it was the shield of Highever; Caley grabbed it without a second thought, testing the weight.

Though much heavier than the equipment she had previously been using, Caley felt as though the sword and shield had been made for her. "I won't put them down until this blade runs red with Howe's blood," she spat. "He'll pay for what he's done, I swear it."

She considered leaving with just the sword and shield, but a glint of metal caught her attention. Steel armor lay in a heap in the corner, unused, but obviously waiting for its chance to be worn in battle. Without as much as a second thought, Caley worked her way out of the leathers and into the soft cotton underclothes. The armor was heavy, but it wasn't completely unbearable. When she finished adjusting the armor, she grabbed the helmet off of the floor, dusting it off before putting it on.

"You really look like a Battle Maiden, my daughter," her mother said. "If anyone defeats Arl Howe, I'm positive it'll be you."

Her mother's words filled her with anger. Arl Howe was a traitorous bastard, and he needed to die as soon as possible. However, her mother made it seem as though killing the Arl was going to be a hard task, one that would take months to do. Caley's eyes narrowed as her grip on the hilt of the family sword tightened. "Caley, listen to me." The woman turned, looking up at her mother. "There's no way for you to kill the Arl now."

"There _must _be a way!" she snapped. "I just have to find him. As soon as I find him, I'll cut his head off. I'll kill him for killing Oriana and harming Oren. I'll…" Caley trailed off, angrily wiping the tears away from her face. "He doesn't deserve to live for what he's done."

"Don't get hot-headed, Caley," her mother's voice was laden with worry. "You can't get killed now. You and Fergus are important to Highever. If you don't survive, we're all doomed." When Caley's lips turned up in an angry scowl, Teyrna Cousland touched her daughter's arm. "We need to find your father."

"Let's go." Her response was curt, and she all but stormed out of the treasury. When she opened the door, her troops looked over at her, waiting for her orders. Lothar found his way next to her side as she spoke. "We're going to make our way to the main hall. My father might be with the knights."

Without as much as a glance behind her, Caley made her way to the front of the small crowd, leading them through the courtyard of Castle Cousland. The castle was a mess, and had taken a lot of damage during the initial battle. Bodies littered the floor, and Caley had to step over dead bodies at nearly every corner.

It was disgusting. Blood was everywhere, and no matter _where_ Caley took her next step, her boots always seemed to find their way into a puddle of some poor man's blood. The Teyrna was able to deal with the gory mess by concentrating on Oren; the boy had fallen asleep in her arms, and she was obsessed with making sure that he was still breathing. The guards under Caley's command kept their eyes trained ahead of them, almost as if they were content with ignoring the bodies of their friends.

Perhaps it was for the best, Caley decided. Seeing Oriana dead was enough of a shock, and she almost wished she hadn't spotted the woman's body.

She pushed the thought aside as soon as she heard the sound of fighting up ahead. "You two," she yelled, pointing her sword at the two men closest to her mother. "Protect Oren and your Teyrna!"

"Yes, Lady Cousland!" They said in unison.

"The rest of you, follow me. We're to rout the enemy. They are _not_ allowed to escape." Grasping the Cousland sword, Caley rushed into the room. It was in total disarray, with soldiers of either side pitted against each other. The Cousland guard were outnumbered, but the enemy was poorly trained.

Caley grabbed a man by the neck, pulling him down as she shoved her sword into his back. Releasing her hold, she yanked her sword out and kicked him into a crowd of his friends. They didn't bother catching him, and allowed him to fall onto the floor with a loud crash. "That's the Cousland whelp," one of them, a man with several missing teeth, said. "Kill her, and the Arl will reward us handsomely."

They were about to surround her, but the Cousland guard rushed to her aid. The Guard was a determined and loyal group, Caley noted. "Lady Cousland, we fight for you and the Teyrn and Highever!" One of them, an extremely young man, yelled out. He swung his greatsword with enough force to cleave through two men.

"I'll need your strength," she called back. Her sword skewered the man in front of her, causing him to double over, making the perfect target for a knee to the head. He fell over, screaming I pain. "Don't get killed here, you got it?"

"I won't let you down." He answered automatically, stepping backwards in time to narrowly avoid getting hit with a man's shortsword. He was extremely strong considering his age, and didn't hesitate to slice clean through the man's armor. The Amaranthine soldier's agonized scream rang through Caley's skull, but she dared not glance back to see what he looked like. What she saw instead was Ser Roderick Gilmore. He was absolutely determined to cut through the soldiers in front of him, and did so without the least bit of trouble.

At one point, the Cousland guard had been outnumbered. In a matter of minutes, they managed to rid the main hall of enemy soldiers. The soldiers that had been with Ser Gilmore looked exhausted, but ready to jump up at any moment.

Their determination had to be honored. The second the door was being bashed on, and Ser Gilmore screamed "Hold it back!" everyone scrambled to their feet, pushing against the large double doors with all of their strength. "We can't allow them to pass." He was about to help his guards with the task when Caley grabbed his arm.

"Come with us, Roderick," she said. "We need to find my father. We need you."

"As do they, my lady," he whispered sadly. "Staying here will buy you more time. You and the Teyrna will find the Teyrn and be able to escape. I will stay here and serve as a distraction. I'll make sure that you and your family gets out alive."

"Roderick, _please_," her voice sounded strained, almost as if she knew that if he stayed in the hall, he would die. "Come with us. Come with _me._" She didn't want to leave him; how could she? She loved him, and wanted nothing more than for him to come with her.

Gilmore saw the sorrow in her eyes. No matter how much he wished to, there was nothing that he would be able to do to take it away. He needed to stay, for her sake. He would become the sacrifice that would ultimately save her life. The two of them stood unmoving, until the door was rammed into again. Hastily, Gilmore bent down, tilting Caley's head upward he leaned forward.

Their kiss was brief, but perhaps it was just what Caley needed to realize that he cared. "I'm doing this for you." He whispered. "Now, go. Find the Teyrn. If you survive, I will know that I did the right thing." His eyes grew soft as he watched Caley take a step backwards. A guard that had escorted her and the Teyrna into the main hall grasped her arm, bringing her back down into reality.

All she could do was nod dumbly at Gilmore. "Survive." She whispered. "You have to try to survive." He nodded, and so did she. "I want to meet you again. I'll _never_ forgive you if I don't get the chance." It was almost painful to look at him. Quickly, she turned and ran outside to the Courtyard.

Lothar, on the other hand, stayed behind for a moment. He looked at Gilmore, before whining. "I know, boy. You must want me to come for Caley's sake." The Mabari barked, and Gilmore smiled. "I can't do that. That's why I need you to look after her. You're nearly all she has left." Gilmore pat the dog's head, before whispering, "I know you'll protect her, since I'm unable to." The dog knew a dismissal when he heard one, and immediately ran after his mistress.

"We have to head for the Servant's entrance," the Teyrna told Caley when the young woman reached her. "Your father wasn't here, so he _must_ be waiting for us to escape." Caley nodded, waving her arm overhead to call the few remaining guards to follow. It was lucky for them that the way to the exit was surprisingly void of any life. The Arl's soldiers were nowhere in sight.

"Pup? Eleanor?"

The sound of the Teyrn's pained voice caused the party to race forward. "We're here, father!" Caley exclaimed, bending down to look at her father. He was lying on the stone floor in a pool of blood.

"Finally..." He said as he winced, holding on tighter to his wound. When he spotted the Teyrna with Oren in his arms, his eyes widened. "Please, tell me he still lives!"

"For now," Caley answered. "You will, too, if we can get you out of here."

"Pup, I won't make it." He shook his head, leaning heavily against Caley. "I want you, your mother, and Oren to escape." His eyes traveled from Caley's and onto his wife's. Smiling, he continued. "The Cousland line must not die. My family must not die."

Caley already knew what her father would say if she insisted that she should stay. He would refuse her, and tell her that she needed to leave. "You, pup… You need to find… Fergus." He seemed unable to concentrate, until a large figure blocked the light from the lamps outside of the small room. "Duncan, you live." The Teyrn's breathing was ragged, almost as if his strength had been sapped away from him. "Could you convince this… this idiot that she must leave?"

"You know I would do no better than you, my friend," Duncan said as he took a place next to the Teyrna. "She has to make the choice herself."

"She won't want to leave. I need her to live!" The Teyrn's voice sounded desperate, and Duncan's eyes closed slowly.

"If she agrees, I will ensure her a safe journey away from Castle Cousland," Duncan said. Bryce seemed to brighten up, although he knew what Duncan was going to say next. "I want her to join the Grey Wardens in return."

"Will I be able to face Arl Howe if I do so, Duncan?" Caley asked. "Or will your order prevent me from doing so?"

"We will not stop you from performing your duty to your House, Caley." Duncan replied.

"Please, pup, tell me this means you made your decision." Teyrn Bryce Cousland sounded desperate. "Promise me you'll escape."

"I promise, father." She whispered reluctantly. She felt like a coward; she was about to run away, and leave her father behind to die.

"No!" he snapped, almost as if he had the ability to read her mind. "Don't think of this as abandonment. You must live. Either way, I… I'll die. You'll escape, and you'll live to fight Howe!"

"I understand," she replied, fighting back the tears. "Come, mother." As soon as Caley stood up, she felt Oren being passed to her. Instinctively, she grabbed him.

The Teyrna was sure to make sure that Oren's transition was gentle. "I won't be coming, my young Battle Maiden. I will stay with your father. I'll make sure that everyone who steps through that door dies instantly. I won't allow them to reach you."

"But mother!" Caley looked furious. "You can't stay here. I'm leaving father. Do you expect me to leave you, too?"

"I do." The woman's frown smoothed out into smile, and Caley knew that this would be the last time she saw her both of her parents. "Go on darling, don't keep Duncan waiting. I _know_ that you'll make us proud. Take care of Oren for me."

Caley stood silent for a long moment, before she finally spoke up. "I love you two."

"Be strong, pup." The Teyrn smiled at her, and Caley forced one back.

"Lady Cousland," the young guard with the greatsword stepped closer to the Teyrn and Teyrna. "Please, don't worry. We'll guard the Teyrn and Teyrna to the death."

Duncan grasped her shoulder, a gentle reminder that it was time to leave. This was it, she figured. This was how she was to start a new life. She just lost Gilmore, her mother, and her father, all in one night.

Next to her, Lothar whined. _He _was still there, he was reminding her. _He _would never leave her, no matter what. He would always be there for her, and she could depend on him no matter what.

Although the Mabari made her worries disappear momentarily, her thoughts wandered back to the man she had once thought of as family.

Howe needed to pay. That much Caley knew, but how would she manage to pull it off? Being a murderer wasn't something she was prepared for, and the thought left her sick to her stomach. With the adrenaline of battle gone, a small part of her wished to take the coward's route, to leave the murder of Arl Howe to someone else—to Fergus. That small part couldn't stand the thought of murdering a man who was once a father figure to her. The other half seethed with anger, telling her that she needed to do this, for her family if not for herself.

_When a man kills your father, you kill him; _Caley told herself, _if you do not take revenge, you do not honor your father's memory. _

Caley held Oren closer to her as she followed Duncan out of Castle Cousland. _I will not dishonor your memory by letting that fiend live. Arl Howe _will_ die by my hand, father. I swear it!_


	4. Chapter 4

I honestly can't believe I'm managing to spit these chapters out so quickly. I want to thank everyone who added this to their favorites and alerts. You encouraged me to hurry this chapter on along and put it up as soon as possible! Forgive any grammar mistakes; I edit the story myself, and I know that there must be things that I don't catch.

I suppose that's enough rambling on my part. I present to you chapter four.

* * *

"Zariah!" Zariah rolled over, positive that if she at least _pretended _to be asleep, Wynne would leave her alone. "Get up, Surana!" That was it; her mentor only said her surname if she needed something done at _that_ exact moment. Wynne looked worried, the young mage noted as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Is something wrong, Wynne?" she asked, slightly groggy.

"A child has been brought here," the woman answered. Zariah bit back a remark; children were _always _brought to the tower. "He's wounded, and he could possibly die if we don't help him."

"Wynne, you're strong enough to heal him…" Zariah trailed off, slightly worried about the implications of the situation.

"You're no longer an apprentice." Wynne answered. "You have to start learning how to heal more than a paper cut. This is the perfect chance to do so."

Zariah looked absolutely petrified, and could do little more than squeak out her next sentence. "You want _me _to heal _him_? _Me_?" She started to stutter, and her palms began to sweat. "W-what if I mess up? He'll die, a-and it'll b-be my fault. Then he'll c-come to haunt me in the Fade, and I won't be able to live with myself, and then I'll—"

"Zariah!" Wynne snapped. Zariah flushed, instantly shutting her mouth. "I'll be there. There's no way you could possibly mess up." She helped the elf to her feet, leading her out of her room. "It's not like you're going to throw a fireball at him. You've always had amazing control of your magic. That's why you were allowed to take part in your Harrowing so early."

"I don't feel confident in my abilities, Wynne…" She muttered, following the older mage through the corridors.

"And that's your issue, Zariah." Wynne answered. She stopped in front of one of the guest rooms and opened the door. "I will be watching over you; you'll do fine. I'm sure of it."

Zariah swallowed hard, stepping into the room. There, she saw a young woman pacing anxiously, before stopping to hover over the child's bed. A Mabari (by the Maker, he was _huge_) followed her around, rubbing his head against her arm in a vain attempt to calm her fears. At the sound of their footsteps, the woman turned around quickly. Her eyes had dark bags under them, and were evidence that she had spent the last few days with little sleep. When she spoke, concern laced her words. "His wounds reopened. He's bleeding. I can't do anything more to help him." She looked down at the boy, her hand touching his forehead. "Please, tell me you're here to save him."

Zariah bit her lip, nodding. Wynne closed the door behind her, walking up to the child and waving Zariah to join her at his bedside. "The First Enchanter sent us to help him, young lady."

"Caley," the woman offered, sitting down on a chair. "You're going to use magic on him, aren't you? Does that mean he'll make it?"

"There are no promises, Caley…" Wynne said. "We're here to heal him, but he has to be strong enough to pull through." Wynne pulled up a stool to one side of the bed, sitting down. Zariah, following her mentor's actions, also sat on a stool. "Now, Zariah, this is just like healing the minor wounds the children often come to you with. Just concentrate, and heal what you see."

Caley's eyes widened. Was that woman even _qualified_ to heal her nephew?

Wynne looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Do not worry about the boy. Zariah is a promising mage, and her healing skills are advanced for one so young." Wynne turned around once again, this time to concentrate on unwrapping the bloody bandages around Oren's side.

"The wound _was_ well stitched," Zariah murmured to herself as she examined the gash, confused on how his wounds could have reopened. She tugged on the sleeves of her robe, pulling them up to her elbows to avoid getting them covered in the young boy's blood. Placing her hands over Oren's wound, Zariah closed her eyes and allowed the magic to flow through her.

The mage's hands started to glow in a dull blue, until the color morphed into a bright green that reminded Caley of fresh grass. Wynne smirked, proud of the mage's work, but soon added her own magic to Zariah's.

In another part of the Circle Tower, an apprentice mage was ready to begin the next step to becoming what he believed was a _real _mage. No longer would he need to be watched over by a mage who was 'smarter' than he was, and believed that he was nothing more than a loser who couldn't control his power.

"Listen, Cynfor, you are to face a demon in the Fade. It will be attracted to the magic inside of you," the First Enchanter said. "It will try to feed lies to you. Don't believe anything it says."

"I am to go into the Fade unarmed, First Enchanter?" Cynfor asked.

"This is a test of wills." The man answered. "I think you understand why it is we keep the Harrowing a secret from the others."

"Enough!" Greagoir yelled. "Irving, you can not give Amell any more help than you gave the others."

"I am quite positive I gave him the same speech, Greagoir." Irving said. He urged Cynfor forward, towards the small stand that glowed blue. "That is lyrium. It is the most important part of the ritual. Remember, Cynfor: the Fade is a realm of dreams. Keep that in mind, and you'll do fine."

"Irving…" Greagoir growled again; this time, he wanted both the First Enchanter and the apprentice to hurry up and start.

"I hear you, Greagoir." Irving said, giving the annoyed Templar a smile. Greagoir snorted, turning around and joining his Templars in front of the Lyrium. "Go on, Cynfor."

The last thing Cynfor remembered before placing his hand in the lyrium was the eyes of a curious Templar, staring him down. He closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he was already in the Fade.

Shapeless spirits had gathered around his body, but as soon as he stood up, they raced away from him. Irving was right about the Fade. It almost felt like being in a dream, and it made Cynfor feel powerful. In the Fade, it seemed as though things were afraid of him, and he had complete control of what he did. In the Fade, his magic wasn't to be held back by the First Enchanter, by Templars, and by other mages.

"It seems as though someone's a _little _cocky…" A voice whispered from behind him. Cynfor turned around, a scowl on his face and his fingertips glowing red. "Whoa, now, no need to get so hasty!" A mouse scurried out in the open, soon transformed into a man. "I'm right here, see? I'm not your demon!"

"Who are you?" Cynfor asked, lowering his hand.

"I could ask you the same thing," he chuckled, until Cynfor shot him a glare. "Okay, okay! Remember? 'No need to get so hasty'?" He laughed nervously, before extending his hand. "I'm Mouse."

Cynfor was reluctant to take his hand, but still grasped it firmly in his own. "Cynfor, Mage _extraordinaire_." The mage had straightened up his stance and squared his shoulders. A lopsided grin was pasted on his face as he spoke. "I've got a Harrowing to finish, Mouse. If you'd excuse me…"

"Wait!" Mouse called out, running to keep up with the mage. "You don't have much time, you know."

"Then _why_ are you trying to waste it?" Cynfor asked.

"I'm just giving you a warning." Mouse mumbled. "I think that the Templars killed me. I was murdered before I even had a chance to finish. It wasn't fair."

Cynfor stopped dead in his tracks. His lopsided grin had transformed into an angry frown in a split second. "How long did you have, Mouse?"

Mouse scurried to stand in front of Cynfor. "Has anyone told you that you walk fast? No?" Cynfor shot him yet another glare, causing Mouse to chuckle nervously. "Honestly, I have no idea how much time I had. Listen, don't you look at me that way. It's been a long time since I participated in my Harrowing. Your sense of time isn't the same after a few days in the Fade."

"I guess I'll just have to work quickly," Cynfor said.

"Would you mind if I came with you?" Mouse asked. "If anyone can defeat the demon, I think it will be you. If you get your chance to return, then maybe I'll be able to have mine, you know?"

Cynfor crossed his arms, and looked at Mouse. "If you stay out of my way, I don't see a problem with it."

Instantly, Mouse transformed back into his rodent form. "I can assure you that I won't be any trouble at all. I'll be so quiet you won't even know I'm around."

Cynfor would only believe it if it happened. Mouse seemed like a loud individual (he couldn't quite say that he was a 'spirit' or a 'man' quite so easily), and Cynfor was absolutely positive that he would wind up talking the entire time.

Almost on cue, Mouse spoke up. "See that Spirit over there? He might just help you. He didn't help me, or a few others, but maybe you can find a way to reason with him."

"Always worth a shot, Mouse," Cynfor answered, already heading towards the spirit.

"Valor turns almost everyone down, Cynfor," Mouse replied. "What makes you think it'd help you?"

"I can be persuasive." When Cynfor reached the spirit, it turned around, pointing its sword at him.

The spirit dipped into a low stance, holding up the arming sword over its head. "Another mortal has been thrown to the flames," Valor's voice gave away its gender; the spirit was male. "It's a cowardly test they send you to complete. _I _would pit each of you against each other. It's a good way of weeding out the weak." The spirit thrust his sword, turning and holding onto the hilt with both hands. "Instead, they decide to send you unarmed against a demon." The spirit was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again.

"I can't say I have a choice in the matter, Spirit." Cynfor answered as he crossed his arms.

"That much is true. The fault lies with the others back at your world." The spirit shook his head as he placed the sword back in its scabbard. "Based off of the fact that you're here, talking to me, is proof enough that you haven't destroyed your target yet."

"You're right, and that's why I've come to you." Cynfor replied. "You're obviously a warrior spirit. Is there any way I can convince you to help my cause?"

"I am only here to observe. It is not my place to interfere." Valor answered. "However, I will give you a staff if you manage to best me in combat. I shall be the one to test you as you _should _be tested."

Cynfor didn't even bother to announce that the battle wouldn't be fair if Valor held a weapon. The spirit wouldn't want to listen to him, nor would he help him if he complained even in the slightest. "You have a deal, Spirit."

"Good. Our battle starts now." Without giving Cynfor a moment to even prepare himself, Valor slashed the arming sword vertically. Cynfor took a hasty step to his right, nearly getting hit with the spirit's weapon.

Under his breath, Cynfor began muttering a spell. His hands began to glow once more, but this time it was a deep violet in color. Valor halted, holding his sword up and bracing himself. Almost instantly, he was knocked off of his feet and landed on his back. He sat in a daze for hardly a second, before sloppily rolling to his right. A fireball dispersed in the exact spot he had been laying just a moment before.

Cynfor was relentless in his attack, throwing fireball after fireball at Valor. The spirit was strong, Cynfor quickly realized, but he was also slow. He was built for physical combat, and was not used to dodging at such a fast pace.

At last, Valor miscalculated a step when he went to dodge, giving Cynfor just the opening he needed. As soon as the spirit stumbled, dropping his sword in the process, Cynfor lashed out with another spell. Slowly, ice crawled its way up the spirit's legs, binding him in place.

"I see I underestimated you, Mage," Valor said, annoyed.

"I've got a job to do, Valor." Cynfor replied. "I can't exactly die here."

Valor frowned as he attempted to wiggle his feet. "Unfreeze me, and I shall present you with the staff, as promised." The ice that bound Valor shattered, and the Spirit shook his legs in an attempt to get the last bits of ice off. "I swear, you mages are all so… different. One gets beaten, another manages to _freeze_ me…" he mumbled, leading Cynfor towards a weapons rack.

"Cynfor, I've watched countless apprentices go through here!" Mouse said, scurrying out of hiding to join the mage. "More than half get turned down automatically. Out of the ones left, he only offers a duel to about a third of them, and only a handful has ever beaten him."

"_Really_?" Cynfor asked, raising an eyebrow. "He wasn't much of a challenge."

"Or maybe you're just strong." Mouse was running to keep up with Cynfor at this point. "Why did you challenge Valor for the staff if you don't need it? You obviously don't need to use a staff as a way to channel your magic."

"It'll make a good walking stick." Cynfor turned his attention back to Valor. Though he could not see the spirit's face, it _looked _as though he were having a hard time selecting a staff to give to him. Instead of grabbing a one from the rack, as Cynfor had expected, Valor bowed his head, holding out his hands, palm up.

A bright, orange light began to gather around Valor's hands, and soon started to take shape. Cynfor watched with interest as the light began to materialize into a unique staff, completely different form the ones that lay suspended on the weapons rack behind him. This one, based off of what Cynfor could tell, was made from silverite. The shaft was intricate, and formed a long, twisting dragon.

When the finished staff fell into Valor's open palms, the spirit looked over at Cynfor, who nodded in approval. "I hope you did not think these staves were made of wood, or the swords made of iron."

"This is the Fade, Valor." Cynfor answered. "In here, things bend to your will. It seems logical that your weapons are formed by your thoughts."

Valor nodded in approval, and handed the staff to Cynfor. "I hope this helps you in your quest, young mage."

Cynfor nodded at Valor, but didn't say another word when as he turned around and left the spirit to resume his practice.

"Cynfor, I feel a presence up ahead." Mouse didn't even need to warn him; Cynfor could see the form what looked to be a bear covered in spikes. "It's extremely powerful, although it's not the one you have to fight." The mage frowned, glancing down at the rodent out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing about Mouse's comment.

As the pair got closer to the beast, Cynfor was able to recognize the beast as a Bereskarn. The books in the Circle library had extensive research on tainted animals; one had an entire chapter dedicated to the Bereskarn.

With a rather tight grip on the staff he held, Cynfor walked up to the beast. "Ah, another mortal that is to be hunted by a demon of the Fade." The beast rolled on its side, opening its mouth and yawning. "My, my, have you brought me a snack?" He eyed Mouse with interest, but made no move to get up to catch him.

Fearing for his life, Mouse transformed, holding his hands out in front of him. "I'm most definitely not a snack for you!"

"What a shame." The Bereskarn yawned.

"Hey, Cynfor, let's leave. He won't help us." Mouse was nervous around the Bereskarn, almost as if he thought that he wouldeat him, despite how lazy it seemed.

Cynfor, however, knew better than to just leave. "What sort of spirit are you, if I might ask?" His face held that cocky, lopsided grin; he _knew _that if he played his cards right, he would get this one to help him, much like he had Valor.

"This one's a _demon_, Cynfor!" Mouse hissed, trying to get the mage away from the beast.

"And that one should be a _snack_." It retorted. "But no matter… The demon shall get you eventually, and maybe there will even be scraps left. Sloth _tires_ of you, mortal. Surely you have better things to be doing than bothering me."

"Actually, I don't," Cynfor replied, bending down to look Sloth in the eye.

"You're like the others: annoying. So many annoying mortals come here to bother me, but many are not aware." Sloth rolled over again, lying on his stomach this time. "You are different, of course. You are the type who attracts spirits to you, so that they might attempt to get a foothold and see your world. You have the will to control what you see here, unlike the others. It makes you different."

Holding his staff in order to help him balance on the balls of his feet, Cynfor didn't dare break his eye-contact with Sloth. "Are you talking about dreamers?"

"The annoying ones, yes," Sloth answered. "At the rate you're going, I must say that you remind me of them, with the way you keep _bothering_ me. I hate to ask, but is there something you need of me?"

"I would like help defeating a demon," Cynfor spoke with confidence, his grin growing larger.

"You already have a nice staff. Why not use that and be _valorous_?" Sloth asked, his tone nearly mocking.

"Perhaps he can teach you to take on his form?" Mouse suggested, still attempting to hide behind Cynfor, afraid that Sloth might remember that he had once taken on the form of a rodent.

"Mortals are often too attached to their own form to take on another one." Sloth eyed both Cynfor and Mouse, as if he were evaluating them.

Cynfor was losing his patience. He had a demon to defeat, and yet he was wasting his time with an annoying Sloth and Mouse, who seemed to want nothing more than to make him want to rip his hair out. "Then teach Mouse!" Cynfor growled out, exasperated.

"He is teachable. But only if you answer my riddles." Without even asking Cynfor if he wanted to go through with the deal, Sloth asked his first riddle. "I have seas with no water, coast with no sand, towns without people, and mountains without land. What am I?"

Resisting the urge to turn around and strangle someone—which would most likely wind up being Mouse—the mage considered this question. "That would be a map, right?"

Sloth grumbled, before sighing and asking his next question. "I'm rarely touched but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"

"A tongue." Cynfor replied, remembering the riddle being told to him as a child.

"Very good, I suppose." Sloth replied as he stifled a yawn. "Here is my last riddle. Often will I spin a tale; never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas you wont remember me. What am I?"

_An annoying riddler? _Cynfor wanted to say out of impatience. Obviously, that answer wasn't right, and he closed his eyes in thought. What _could_ you forget that would amuse you for an entire evening? "Are you perhaps… a dream?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't be able to answer that one," Sloth admitted. "You took a bit longer answering. Come, scrawny Snack, and I shall teach you the form of a bear."

"Is this safe, Cynfor?" Mouse asked, secretly terrified of Sloth and his Bereskarn form. One look from Cynfor sent Mouse scrambling over to Sloth's side, where the hulking beast began to talk him through the transformation.

Cynfor was surprised that Sloth was thorough in his explanation. He went through what it _felt _like to be a bear, going as far as to describe their habitats and general personality. The explanation took no longer than several minutes, for Sloth was only interested in explaining the necessities. "Go on, _Snack_." He said, "Transform now."

Mouse took a deep breath, before he suddenly changed form in one fluid motion. "Well, how did I do?" he asked excitedly. "This form feels heavy."

Sloth snorted, nearly disappointed. "Not the form I had in mind, but it works."

"What? What did I do wrong?" Mouse asked as he turned his head to look at Cynfor.

"You're a black bear. I suppose Sloth wanted to see you as a Bereskarn." Cynfor waved his hand back and forth in the air, almost as if he were dismissing the thought. "It works, so let's go. Thank you, Sloth."

"I'm not rooting for you to win, mind you." Sloth answered. "I want you to lose nearly as much as your demon does. I'm _hungry_, after all."

"Your confidence in me is so rewarding," Cynfor replied sarcastically as he walked past Sloth, followed by the newly transformed Mouse.

When Mouse ran ahead of him, Cynfor's eyes narrowed. "This is it, my friend!" he said excitedly. "You'll fight your demon here." When Cynfor made his way to his side, Mouse transformed, pointing out into the distance. "There it is! Can you see it?"

Side by side, Cynfor and Mouse walked towards what looked to be a smal pool of magma on the ground. Slowly, the magma took shape, growing taller to become a Rage Demon. "Finally, it comes! I've been waiting forever." Its voice was deep, and it was obviously attempting to use it to its advantage. "When I overtake your mind, I'll finally see the living world through your eyes. Nothing will stop me."

"Its two against one, demon," Cynfor replied. "If you think you can win, then hurry up and fight. I'm sick of all this waiting."

"Ah, so Mouse has yet to tell you of our arrangement?" The demon asked.

Cynfor's face remained emotionless, although Mouse looked horrified. "We don't have an arrangement, demon! Not anymore."

The Rage Demon mocked being hurt, even going as far as to place his hand over where his heart would have been, if he had one. "I'm _hurt_. We shared so many meals, spent so much quality time together, and _now _you wish to change the rules? I don't think that's quite fair, Mouse."

"I'm no lounger a mouse!" The man exclaimed, rushing forward and switching forms. As a bear, Mouse roared, causing the Rage Demon to laugh.

"We shall see!" The demon's body melted down into the earth until only its arms and head remained whole, and pillars of magma shot out from various places. Cynfor took several steps backward, his eyes never leaving the form of the Rage Demon.

Mouse was relentless in his attack, but it was effective. "Cynfor!" Mouse shorted. "A little help would be _loved _right about now!" With the demon concentrating on the bear, Cynfor was able to begin uttering a powerful spell at a leisurely pace; this way, he wouldn't be tired out when the spell was cast.

Much like with Valor, Cynfor lashed out with ice as his weapon. First, an arm froze, and instantly, Mouse attacked it, shattering it with a powerful swipe of his claws. The demon roared in pain as, slowly, his body was being broken.

At last, in one powerful attack, the demon was frozen completely. When the fog surrounding the demon dispersed, Cynfor walked up to the now frozen statue. It had one arm raised up, almost as if it hoped it could protect itself. Without even thinking about it, Cynfor swung his staff and shattered the ice.

"I never thought that anyone could defeat that demon. But here you come, and manage to go through and destroy it without a problem. You're a _true_ mage; a powerful one, I know it." Mouse sighed wistfully, before saying, "Maybe now I can find a way out."

Cynfor whirled around, and out of the staff shot a line of fire. "C-Cynfor!" Mouse stuttered, falling to the ground to avoid getting burned. "What are you doing? I am not your enemy!"

"Don't try that, Mouse," Cynfor spat. "You thought I didn't know? Only a demon would be able to tell which ones are stronger than another, and just _where_ they would be. No demon would strike a deal with a human and not overtake them eventually. You also mentioned that you died, and your mistake was telling me that maybe you would be able to return."

"Cynfor—" Mouse stepped forward, but halted when Cynfor's staff began to smoke at the end.

"Don't try me, demon." He replied. "The last one wasn't my test."

"Very perceptive of you," Mouse snarled. Immediately, he changed forms again, this time taking the form of a humungous demon. Cynfor wasn't quite sure what it was, but if he had to guess, it would have been a Pride Demon. "Your Templars set you up to fail, but you seem to be smarter than the rest.

"I want to see the world, but you will not do. I need someone I can overtake easily." The demon bent down to stare at Cynfor. "Keep your wits about you, Cynfor. True tests _never _end."

Before he even realized what was happening, Cynfor's world turned black. The last thing he could remember hearing was the sound of the demon's laughter.


End file.
